


One way ticket to the Qliphoth

by RaymondGaudbertdAuvergne



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23628091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaymondGaudbertdAuvergne/pseuds/RaymondGaudbertdAuvergne
Summary: Maybe the trip to save the world again wasn't so bad, when you have allies nearby and a possible future ahead.
Relationships: Nero/V
Kudos: 27





	One way ticket to the Qliphoth

To be honest, Nero hadn't expected to enjoy the trip back to the place he lost Dante to that son of a bitch Urizen. 

It was supposed to be agonizingly slow, since the city was swarmed with hordes of demons, and overflowed with roots of the blood-sucking tree. It should have been terrifying, being outnumbered, all alone against whatever Hell had to offer. 

But it was not.

\--------------------------------------------------

Nico, being that loud-ass bitchy self - no offence, but even as a "friend", she is damn sure about making jabs toward him once every five minutes - as usual, constantly kept him up-to-date with those new Devil Breakers, supplied the young Devil Hunter with whatever he need in exchange for cash, plus those spare demon parts that was left behind while everything turn to dust. Yeah, he detested that cigarettes smoke (smell like being dumped in a tank of Empusa blood, left outside to dry, then put back in another tank to fermented overnight), but after sniffing enough Qliphoth pollen and sucking in dust from demon corpse, he welcomed it joyously as a change. Her attitude was not that awesome to be honest, and so were the merchandises sometimes....

Still better than wandering on his own in this abandoned city anyways.

And then, of course....

V.

At first, Nero disliked the man. He was weird, from the choice of clothing, to the tattoos - had he mentioned that those are magically connected to contracted demons? - and his obsession in poetry. Seriously, whoever recite lines of poem when facing a demon ten times their sizes? V was worrisome, and sometimes Nero had to contemplate whether or not should he jump in front of that guy to cover him, only to watch one of his pets miraculously save the day. 

By the way, that chicken really deserved some credits, judging from the number of times it pull V up in the air to dodge incoming hits as easy as pulling a rag. 

Maybe the chicken was that strong. Or V was that light. Or both. 

Wait, did it even matter?

Still, it was good. Good to have a comrade by his side, good to know that there was someone else, also facing the dangers Nero was willingly put himself up to, moving in the same direction with him. It didn't always make his work easier, for they go separate ways... but when their path did crossed, V's pets offered tremendous helps. If you are willing to excuse that bad mouth, sorry, beak of the chicken, that is. The cursed beak could bring Nero's mouth to shame on good days, not to mention when facing off an enemy. Griffon sure damn knew how to taunt demons like no one's bussiness, then finished it off with flashes of lights and chains of electricity. Then they have Shadow, the hell cat-ish creature that spent too much time being in a spiky situation. A natural glider as well, when it wasn't being occupied by clawing the guts out of demons. Not to mentioned Nightmare, oh those rare occasions he heard about it, seen it in action, and witnessed the pure white flash of hair on V when the beast came out to play.

It certainly wasn't enough the first time, when they lost Dante in the throne room of Urizen. But to hell if Nero wouldn't try again, even if the legendary devil hunter might be as good as a piece of jerky.

\--------------------------------------------------

The trip, even with a van to provide accommodation, was still not nearly as fast and comfortable as he wish it to be. Hours, days, thousands of creeps and hundreds of beasts, yet the Qliphoth is still not close enough. Still too many roots. Too many infestations.

Too much.

So when he felt overwhelmed by what ever fuck was happening, he turned to the the sweet, sweet voice of V, reading lines after lines. At first it sounded wrong; at a point it was sickly smooth, another time he felt irritated with how V pauses mid-sentence. After multiple occasions trying to calm his god damn nerves, his interest piped up considerably at how V recite every single Blake's poem available. 

An acquired taste, Nero supposed.

His voice was undoubtedly weird, just like everything else. But that was a part of V, unique, charming when you inspect at the right angle. Calming, in fact, after a long hard battle; though it still striked a nerve whenever the young devil hunter hear a poem in the middle of a fight. Probably that was the reason why the mysterious guy's familiars fight harder whenever they hear a poem line. They might want to end their suffering as soon as possible, just like Nero.

Still, more time, more demons, mean more Devil Breakers. Nico, between her time smoking, yawning, napping and making impromptu drifts, found times to experiment with the materials they brought back. Not just Nero, but also from V. Together, they provided bunch of godknowwhat demon parts, which was turned into both inspiration and a part of Nero's right arm. And Nero, after relentless testing and experiencing, brought the arm back to Nico for more examinations, throw up some good cash for upgrades, then return back to the battlefield only to pry out even more of the "cool stuffs". 

Nero understood the importance of those thing, even if he himself still showed his disgust openly with how the mechanic treat his souvenirs. But V, how on earth V became so open-minded with the fact that the devil hunter he tag along with had a demon-based artificial arm replacing his demon-based natural arm, is beyond his ability to comprehend. That guy actively brought back parts that didn't disintegrate on sight, sought out weird things that might be of Nico's interest; and he was polite to the jabs and jokes thrown out his way from the mechanic.

V wasn't kind. He was just... well, him.

Weird ass guy. Polite, but weird.

When they were so done with Red Grave, Nero would spend every moment he have to pry open V and the abilities of his.

\--------------------------------------------------

They were closer now. A few hours. One day at most. 

V had been acting wrong.

He still read, in that soothing tone of his, still smirked and Nero and riled him up instantly even though there were no hostility detected. Still fought, still collected whatever shit left behind after each battle silently.

But there was definitely something fishy.

The cane, for once, actually been used as it is, and not an impromptu weapon. V leaned on it more than usual, limping his ways out of trouble like his leg had given up days before. Or else, its Shadow that carry him in a black pool of darkness, gliding smoothly across all territories. The guy actually coughed, and he seemed tired. 

Nero had been acting wrong too.

Because now he felt worry about a guy he met just merely a month ago, as if he was afraid of the guy dying on the way to the Qliphoth. There was an urge to find V, to make sure that he wasn't ambushed or kidnapped, and his leg hadn't given out yet. He knew, he was sure that if something like that happened, Griffon would die to bring his owner out of trouble. But no, such a statement could no longer quench his thirst to see V unharmed, his perfectly styled bang swept aside to reveal lovely green eyes.

Wait...

Did he just compliment V's eyes?

\--------------------------------------------------

Together, they reached Qliphoth. But again, they parted ways. Nero, heading toward wherever Urizen was. V, following a strange looking part to a stranger looking house, for a sword that none believed it was actually there. 

He wanted to tell V that his skin was turning grayish, and his legs was bucking wildly even when leaning on the cane. He wished to locked the black hair guy in the van with all those other demon parts, safe, sound, away from troubles. Just like locking a beautiful songbird in a cage, so when the owner return from work, he can hear his dearest pet singing its welcome.

But he didn't.

So they said goodbye.

Left for whatever targets they had in mind.

Nero climbed the Qliphoth, blood lusted and determined. He believed they would meet again, even if he had to crawled his way out of blood sucking house plant, they had to put an end to this. The trip took a toll on everyone, but especially on V. Pure human, like Nico, but fought constantly as if V had the advantages of bloodline like the one-armed devil hunter. Maybe they should have force him to sleep and rest, like a human. But then, it was hard to remember the fact, when that guy was surrounded by familiars. It just felt wrong, out of place. No human was supposed to be like that.

What are you, V?

\--------------------------------------------------

So they met again. In a throbbing insides of Qliphoth, infested with demons and decorated by blood, Nero examined V's wrecked situation. There were literal cracks on his skins, dust falling out whenever the man breath too hard.

No, this wouldn't do.

But V were persuasive, and Nero just couldn't hold it anymore. So they limped their way out, the raven hair leaning on the white head for support. And that was when Nero realized he fucked up.

At close proximity, V smelled divine for a guy who never got time to scrub all the dirt from his body for weeks, his breath a mixture of V-ish and even more V-ish when the young devil hunter pay attention to his scarce yawns. His voice, velvety, coated with sugar and honey and chocolate before covering with rose petals, slowly recite random lines as they made their way to their destination. His body, lean, smooth curves at the right places, skinny enough to count ribs, but muscular enough to not poke Nero with his bones. Fit right into his arms. Perfect for snuggling.

Snuggling.

Just what the fuck.

Maybe when that scumbag Urizen took Yamato, it took half of his brain and all of his logic away with the sword.

\--------------------------------------------------

What the fuck, mate.

\--------------------------------------------------

Of all creatures, above on Heaven and underneath in Hell, Nero fucking crushed V. Strange dude, suspicious background, mysterious companions.

Yet, beautiful, dangerous, addictive, and also poetic as fuck. Prince Charming in a corset and leather jacket, riding a black nightmare-based companion instead of blinding white horse. Kill with a sharpened cane, not polished sword. Fly without wings or magical carpet, didn't dance a waltz, but a song of blood and gore. And the gifts, weren't rings and golds and necklaces, but instead trophies after defeating the worst in Hell. 

He could live with that.

Maybe, after they have dealt with this problems, he could ask the guy out for a date. Starting by making friends, Nero guessed. Not now, not when his crush was half death, his relationships in total were as good as a train wreck, and big bad boy Urizen still on the prowl. He would have to make sure everyone is safe first.

Then they can work on their future.

\--------------------------------------------------

And no where would be safer than being a part Vergil, Nero's own father, right?


End file.
